


Won't Do You No Good

by thegrumblingirl



Series: Dishonored prompts [3]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Also includes, Companionable Snark, Corvo pretends to be Daud's date, Corvo the hotshot guardsman, Daud the bastard gear bandit, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, First Meetings, First Time, It's For a Case, M/M, Romance, Surprise Kissing, it's a "what if the boys met while Daud was travelling the Isles" AU, this is another one of those 'someone gave me a prompt and things escalated from there' scenarios
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-05-24 11:40:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14954007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrumblingirl/pseuds/thegrumblingirl
Summary: Eighteen years old and serving the Grand Serkonan Guard, Corvo Attano was something of a rising star. He had the Duke’s favour, he’d won the Blade Verbena with a stolen sword at sixteen, and he’d helped arrest a crew of pirates plundering merchant ships just last week.“Hot shit,” the others in the squad called him, half teasing, half green with envy, and Corvo would cop to basking in the attention just a little. They were in Cullero at present, having returned from sea. He’d once made his mother the promise not to join the navy proper; and in truth, life on a ship wasn’t the thing for him. But he’d enjoyed this respite from the streets of Karnaca, where everything seemed twice as busy and the air even heavier.





	1. On the Fence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Punchlines](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Punchlines/gifts).



> one-line prompts: 23. “Just pretend to be my date.”  
> asked by punch

Eighteen years old and serving the Grand Serkonan Guard, Corvo Attano was something of a rising star. He had the Duke’s favour, he’d won the Blade Verbena with a stolen sword at sixteen, and he’d helped arrest a crew of pirates plundering merchant ships just last week.

“Hot shit,” the others in the squad called him, half teasing, half green with envy, and Corvo would cop to basking in the attention just a little. They were in Cullero at present, having returned from sea. He’d once made his mother the promise not to join the navy proper; and in truth, life on a ship wasn’t the thing for him. But he’d enjoyed this respite from the streets of Karnaca, where everything seemed twice as busy and the air even heavier.

It should have been his night off, painting the town red with his squad mates; but instead, Corvo was skulking in the shadows once again. He’d spotted a fence earlier, one he knew was working with the pirates, or at least used to. There was some information to be getting out of her. So he’d followed her across the city. As children, he and Beatrici had often had to make do as pickpockets; and even though Corvo was twice as tall now and not nearly as scrawny, thanks to officers’ rations and a well stocked mess hall, he still knew how to blend into a crowd. The fence had no idea she was being followed.

By two people.

It took Corvo a while to be certain, but three corners later, there was no doubt that the man in the blue coat currently crouching on an awning above their heads had the same idea — and his own reasons. Corvo could not say if the stranger was aware of his own pursuit; but even so kept an eye on him as well as his target. In his Guard uniform, Corvo was simply an officer on patrol — he made sure to keep his pace leisurely, concealing the purpose in his step. For the man up above, he was simply another guard to evade.

Twenty minutes later, he’d tracked the fence to a tavern. He stopped, and cursed under his breath. He couldn’t go in there, not like this. He was about to head on, to look for a back door or any other way inside, when he felt the cold muzzle of a gun pressed into his neck.

“Easy,” a deep, rasping voice told him.

Corvo stilled. It could only be the man he’d seen following the fence. But what did he stand to gain from threatening an officer? Why risk it?

“Come on,” the voice commanded now. A hand landed on his elbow, tugging him backwards; into the shadows.

“What do you want?“ Corvo asked.

“You’re tracking Rosario. Why?”

“They’re a fence who I know has been working with the pirates knocking over trade ships. I just… wanted a chat.“

“She would not want a chat with you.“

“I had hoped to persuade her,” Corvo returned, swallowing a grunt when the pistol pressed harder against his neck. “With words, and promise of a pardon.”

“You could procure that?“ the voice wondered. “Only the Duke can grant pardons.”

“It is a good thing, then, that I know Theodanis,” Corvo said, purposely using Serkonos’ ruler’s first name. He called him ‘Your Grace,’ as any officer did, but the stranger did not need to know that.

“And what’s the Duke’s favourite doing all the way out here, in Cullero?”

Corvo had enough. “What is this, twenty questions? What next, a game of Nancy? We don’t have the time.”

“We?” the voice echoed, a faint tone of mocking lingering.

“You obviously want something, so let’s cut the horseshit.”

“Fine.” Corvo heard the gun’s hammer click, then the gun disappeared and the man stepped up beside him. “Name’s Daud.”

“If that’s supposed to tell me something: I’ve never heard of you,” Corvo told him. “Corvo Attano.”

The man — Daud — smirked. “Likewise, soldier.“

“Now what?“

“You,” Daud began, “take off your uniform jacket and sword belt, loosen up your collar a bit, and then we go inside.”

“What?”

Daud sighed. “Do you know what bar that is?”

Corvo shrugged. “It’s a pub.”

“Not just any pub.“ And then, as if on cue, two men came out the door obviously leading to the tap room. There was nothing remarkable about them — until one of them looked around, and then tugged the other back by his wrist; into an embrace and… a kiss.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“So, what’s the problem?” Corvo still didn’t understand.

“Anyone on their own attracts attention, especially a new face. Especially one such as mine.” At that, Daud turned, presenting Corvo with the other cheek — a cheek with an angry scar running from his eyebrow down to his chin, and possibly further down. “I would have gone in alone, but seeing as you had the same idea…”

“And what am I supposed to do?”

Daud looked at him as though he were being incredibly dense — and he probably was. “Just pretend to be my date.”

“Oh. _Oh._ ” Well. It might just work.

“Problem?” Daud asked, his tone sharper now.

“No, not at all, I only—well, I don’t know you, or why _you_ were following her.“ Corvo crossed his arms. “So?”

Daud regarded him a moment. “I need information. I don’t seek to harm her.” At Corvo’s continued silence, he rolled his eyes. “Nor anyone else. Tonight, at least.”

That would have to be good enough, Corvo supposed. He started on the buttons of his uniform.

“I’m not leaving my sword.”

Daud shot him a critical look. “Yes, you are.”

He was.

Once inside, Daud left Corvo with a whispered, “Stay here,” at the bar, disappearing to parts unknown. Corvo knew his way around a tap, at least, and ordered some ale. He wouldn’t drink it, but they had to keep up appearances. He found himself standing next to a bear of a man, who smirked at him.

“Left you all alone already, your man?”

Corvo took a sip of his beer to buy himself some time, letting his eyes dart around the tap room, searching for Daud.

“We’re looking for a friend,” he settled on eventually. “Thought we might find her here. He’s better at faces.”

“And you’re much better at directions,” Daud suddenly turned up beside him and, to Corvo’s consternation, slipped an arm around his waist. “So each man has his talents.”

Corvo, fighting not to go tense at the sudden contact, looked over at him. “Any luck?”

“No,” Daud affected a sour look, but his fingers tightened on Corvo’s hip. He’d found her, then.

“Hmm,” Corvo hummed. “Want to stay for a bit, anyway?”

“Sure.” Daud shrugged, and let go. “Go upstairs? The balcony’s not too crowded.“

“Lead the way.” When Corvo stood, he once again came face to face with the burly man from earlier. “Uh. Good night?”

He took his glass, rounded the stool he’d sat on, and nearly collided with Daud — who put a hand on the small of his back, then lightly pushed him forward.

“Good night?” Daud rumbled in his ear as they made their way through the crowd, past a few couples dancing, others just milling around. “I should call you Officer Manners.”

“Please don’t.” They headed up the stairs. “She’s not on the balcony, is she?“ He paused. “You sure you’re not with an acting troupe?”

Daud shook his head in apparent exasperation. “She went out through the back door. Waiting on a contact, I think.” Once they were upstairs, he used the hand on Corvo’s back to steer him not to the balcony, but to the opposite door.

ROOF ACCESS. ENTRY FORBIDDEN.

Oh, good. Corvo did take a swig of ale now, and then set the glass down on a side table tucked against the wall.

“Lead the way.”

So Daud did, and once they were up on the roof, promptly made to get down again. Corvo followed him, jumping down to a lower outbuilding, then scaling the opposite wall. They dropped down into the alley way, far enough away from their target not to be spotted but close enough to listen in, if they paid attention. Or, well, that would have been the plan, if a door to their left hadn’t open right then, light spilling out — hitting them like a damned spotlight.

People, Corvo had found, were simple creatures. When something moved, they looked at it. When something suddenly lit up, they were like moth to a flame. And right now, he and Daud were sitting ducks. He turned, then, shielding Daud from whoever was coming through that door, pushed him up against the brick wall of the house — and kissed him. Daud tensed against him, his hands landing on Corvo’s arms, but Corvo tilted his head, brushing his lips over Daud’s once before pressing closer again; willing him to go with it lest they be discovered.

In response, Daud’s lips parted against his. _Void_ , Corvo thought, _he doesn't do things by halves, does he_. That didn’t stop him from taking Daud up on the invitation, though. Steps came up behind them, the door closed and shut the light out again, or in, whichever, and someone huffed half a laugh, then moved past them.

“Rosario,” he heard a man’s voice mutter. “Let’s give those two some privacy.”

“Yes, let’s.” Her voice was amused.

Damn. Their steps moved farther away from them, but they didn’t seem to leave the alley — yet. Corvo let up on Daud, catching his breath and avoiding his gaze for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It was the only thing I could think of.”

“In that case, I suppose I should be flattered,” Daud drawled, and Corvo was thankful to the shadows for working to hide the heat in his cheeks. Then, he realised he was still boxing Daud in with a hand on either side of his head.

“Sorry,” he muttered again, then stepped back. “We should…“

“Come on,” Daud moved past him. “I know another way up.”

He began scaling a ladder. Behind him, Corvo sighed. This might turn into a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol ok so I won't update this quite as quickly as the other one, but this is sure to spawn into a whole involved saga, so.... ~~what the fuck am I doing~~


	2. To Be Alone With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corvo succeeded Daud up the ladder, up on the roof of the building the fence’s contact had just emerged from. Seemingly playing it by ear, Daud stopped short for a moment, then turned into the direction of faint voices drifting up from below. Over his shoulder, he gestured for Corvo to follow — Corvo, painfully aware that Daud was neither his commanding officer nor his squad mate, shook his head lightly before, well. Following. What choice did he have?
> 
> Daud moved swiftly through the shadows, as if he knew these rooftops by the soles of his feet; and perhaps he did. Creeping through the dark, Corvo wondered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dumb boys are continuing to be dumb......

Corvo succeeded Daud up the ladder, up on the roof of the building the fence’s contact had just emerged from. Seemingly playing it by ear, Daud stopped short for a moment, then turned into the direction of faint voices drifting up from below. Over his shoulder, he gestured for Corvo to follow — Corvo, painfully aware that Daud was neither his commanding officer nor his squad mate, shook his head lightly before, well. Following. What choice did he have?

Daud moved swiftly through the shadows, as if he knew these rooftops by the soles of his feet; and perhaps he did. Creeping through the dark, Corvo wondered.

_Daud._

He had not teased for the sake of teasing earlier: the name was not familiar, but the way Daud had _said_ it suggested that, perhaps, it should have been. What was it supposed to inspire then? Confidence — or fear? Observing Daud as he slunk towards the roof’s edge with a grace that belied the broadness of his frame, Corvo was sure he wouldn’t want to place his bets just yet.

The voices below grew louder — they were right on top of them now. Corvo stopped just beside Daud, their shoulders brushing. For a moment, he almost threatened to blush again when he remembered their kiss. Well, it hadn’t been a _kiss_ , more of a last-ditch attempt to avoid detection. But Daud had as good as devoured him, and Corvo tended to know when he was acting young and stupid even while, arguably, being so. _Kissing_ Daud back certainly qualified.

“So Sully and his crew got nicked, huh?” Rosario’s contact said in that moment.

“Picked up by the scruff of their necks by the Grand Guard,” she answered, derision obvious in her voice. “Who knew those choffers even had it in them.”

“Were you still waitin’ on cargo?”

“No, thank the Void. I did my last deal with Sully back in Songs.”

“What? Really? C’mon, Dawson, you goin’ straight?”

“Har har. Look, Sully’s screwed me on a trade one too many times for me to keep up my end of it. It’s little things, you know, but it adds up.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. What about the other crews?”

“Remember the Drake brothers?”

“Drake? From Morley?”

“Yeah. They’re looking to take over Sully’s hunting grounds.”

“No kiddin’. You gonna trade with them?”

“They haven’t shortchanged me _yet_.”

“And when they do?“

“I’ll teach ‘em not to do it again. Sully was a crook who never learnt better — they’re still young.”

“I dunno, that older brother’s lookin’ like trouble.”

They heard Rosario scoff. “All smugglers do. If they don’t, they’re not worth the bother.”

“Fair.”

“So what’ve you got?”

“Aye, you’ll like this one: Tyvian Ore, as much as you’ve never seen in one place. Straight from the mines in Utyrka.”

“When’s it coming in?”

“Next week, Tuesday or Wednesday.”

“Alright. Deal me in — one crate only, though. I don’t have that much space in my storage room at the moment.”

“You got it.”

Corvo and Daud had heard enough — and Daud was already tugging Corvo back from the roof’s edge. Without words, they made their way towards the other side of the building, then two roofs further, where Daud sat down on the edge of a low chimney, patting the stone beside him with one gloved hand. With the other, he withdrew a cigarette and a box of matches from one of the pockets of his coat.

“Heard enough?” he asked, cigarette clamped between his lips as he shielded the flame from the breeze.

Corvo perched next to him.

“Have you?” Evidently, he thought, otherwise he’d have stuck around.

Daud gave him a look that told him exactly that; and Corvo reminded himself not to smile.

Corvo voiced a thought that’d been niggling at him the entire time. “Were you here for her, for her contact, for Sullivan, or for the Drakes?”

Daud’s eyes slid away and he looked out over the sprawling rooftops. Cullero was practically built into the rock, so many houses perching perilously above the cliffs’ edges. Daud took a deep drag, then breathed out the smoke through his nose. It wasn’t one of the sweet tobacco brands favoured by many in Serkonos, nor any white leaf. It smelt bitter. Morley, Corvo thought. Or perhaps Gristol. Everything coming from there seemed blackened with tar.

“That’s a lot of heads,” Daud commented almost idly.

“That’s not an answer,“ Corvo returned, watching Daud’s profile.

Eventually, Daud turned to look at him. He had what an artist might call an ‘interesting’ face — be that an insult or a compliment — and with the light from a window higher up hitting Daud’s scar, Corvo saw for the first time — paid attention for the first time — how recently acquired it had to be. Still angry, all jagged edges and warring with the surrounding skin.

“It’ll have to do, Officer,” he said, that rasp back in his voice. Corvo wondered if it was the smoking.

“I could arrest you and _make_ you tell me,” Corvo said — it didn’t quite come out as a threat.

Daud smirked. “Might I remind you: you left your sword behind.“

“You didn’t take the knife from my boot,” Corvo said pleasantly enough.

Daud tilted his head. “You didn’t seem the type.“

“Then clearly you’re not the judge of character you think you are,“ Corvo returned easily. _Too_ easily.

Daud didn’t respond; continued smoking instead. When he’d ground out the butt under the heel of his boot, he looked up at Corvo again, but still didn’t speak. Corvo held his gaze.

“Hmm,” Daud hummed. As if having come to a conclusion. Before Corvo could ask what it was, Daud closed the distance between them, and caught Corvo’s lips with his. Surprised, Corvo felt his fingers curl against the brick of the chimney. But he did not pull away.

It was Daud who broke their connection.

“For good luck, soldier,” he rumbled. “Good night.” Then, he stood, walked towards the edge, and vaulted over without a second glance. For a moment, Corvo could only stare, but then, as if struck, he jumped up to follow. Looking down, he saw Daud descend the fire escape three stories below. For good luck, then? Corvo wondered which of them might need it more. Turning around, he saw that the door to the roof leading up from inside the house was propped open with a rock. How convenient.

*

Finding his way back to where Daud had made him stash his uniform and sword belt was simple enough — finding his things, however, was not.

They were gone — his jacket, his pouch, his _sword_. He’d hidden them behind a few crates in an abandoned fishmonger shop. No-one would have had cause to go looking there for them; except for him.

And Daud.

Corvo looked for any other clues — but there were no footprints in the dust except for two pairs of boots, and none of the other crates had been disturbed. Corvo put his hands on his hips and let his head fall forward. ‘Hot shit,’ he could hear his squad mates’ voices (and their laughter) now; ‘Attano’s lost his gear _and_ his coin!’

He sighed. Nothing for it now.

He turned again to take stock of the room once more — and that was when he saw it. A fresh flower — an orchid blossom, at the end of the dusty work counter. An orchid much like the ones that Corvo had noticed, absently, at the pub.

He barked a laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a) Daud, you asshole.  
> b) Daud's got a crush :'''')))  
> c) When Corvo puts his hands on his waist, all I saw was [this](http://i.imgur.com/pfQbNss.gif).


	3. If You Could See (What I See)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corvo grabbed some breakfast, then left the squad to their own exploits and made his way towards the docks, and from there, further into the trade and merchant quarters of the city. He made sure not to look like someone searching for something; he watched everything and nobody, and let the crowds carry him through the streets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> decided to pick this up again, seeing as I haven't updated this since JUNE.... I still really love this AU, and I have plans for it

As predicted, Corvo had not been able to escape the merciless teasing of his squad when he returned to their temporary quarters close to the docks.

“You seriously lost all your gear?” Escobar asked him _the next morning_ , still incredulous. “A guy stole all your gear?”

“I had to stash my things to get into the bar—”

“To track that fence, I get it,” Escobar interrupted. “And he was watching you and stole your shit, you mentioned.” He watched Corvo for a moment before bursting out laughing. “Shit, Attano, you better get it back, or your ass is fish food.”

“I’m aware,” Corvo told him as he put on his spare uniform. Out of habit, he reached for his hip to adjust the hold of his sword belt, stuttering when, of course, there was no belt to adjust. It was the loss of his sword that irked him most — he needed the coin, obviously, to send most of it home to his mother; and he rued not having his pistol, but it was the sword he would spend all day tracking down. He’d won the Blade Verbena with a stolen sword, _that_ sword, and the guard he’d lifted it off of had given it to him after finding out who he was and what he’d done with it. Corvo knew perfectly well _who_ had taken his things, and he was prepared to knock his teeth in to get back his blade, if he had to.

But first, he had to find Daud. He was certain enough that he would: stealing his clothes had been nothing but a challenge, no matter how ill-advised. Corvo could not fathom what had possessed Daud to do something so foolish (for not wanting to call it _silly_ ). A grown man stealing clothes, by the Void. What had he called him, Officer Manners? Well, he clearly had no recollection of his own; which seemed at odds with the man he’d presented himself to be. Daud’s bearing had been proud, but not vain, confidence in every step and gesture — certainly in the way he’d kissed Corvo. Corvo had merely intended it as a diversion, to make their presence in the alley one of no consequence to their targets, but Daud had taken it beyond the call of duty, pulling Corvo closer with one hand on his arm and the other fisted in his shirt collar. It still warmed Corvo’s cheeks to remember.

But then, they were both young; Corvo estimated Daud to be no more than five years his elder. They were, both of them, neither men nor were they boys. They had set out to prove themselves, but perhaps they could also afford to have themselves a little fun.

Corvo grabbed some breakfast, then left the squad to their own exploits and made his way towards the docks, and from there, further into the trade and merchant quarters of the city. He made sure not to look like someone searching for something; he watched everything and nobody, and let the crowds carry him through the streets. He didn’t ask for directions, nor did he attempt to describe Daud to any of the street vendors at the market, or the shopkeepers on the boulevard. Daud wanted to be found, Corvo did not think it necessary to advertise that he was looking. Besides, he could do this on his own.

The coat Daud had worn was unlike anything else he’d seen in cut and fabric. It looked like a whaler’s oil jacket, but made of leather. He’d worn thick gloves up to his elbow, an… interesting choice, considering the weather. Neither garment were things one would find on any clothing rack in the city, they had to have been tailored. Assuming, of course, that Daud had procured them here; but Corvo was fairly sure that such clothes as he was wearing weren’t in fashion up in Morley or Tyvia, either. That left Gristol, built on the whaling trade. Perhaps he’d spent some time there, but Daud’s accent was unmistakably Serkonan, same as Corvo’s.

He was about to turn left into an alley when something caught his eye on the other side of the street. A florist, shop window and tables outside overflowing with offerings — orchids. Corvo dug into his pocket. He’d carefully hidden the blossom Daud had left for him the night before; or else his squad would have promptly jumped to very different conclusions about what had happened to have him hunting down his clothes the morning after. It was the same type and colour. Corvo tucked it back into his shirt pocket and slowly walked towards the flower shop.

“Need help picking something out, mister?”

Corvo turned, expecting to find the shopkeeper or their assistant, but he was instead faced with a young boy. About eight years old, skinny as anything, and with smudges of dirt down one cheek.

“And what do you know of flowers?” Corvo asked the boy.

“Not a wit, sir,” the boy told him, but clearly it caused him no concern. “But I might know what you’re looking for.”

Corvo only just restrained an exasperated sigh. “And where might I find it?”

“Down by the factories, sir. You might try near the tobacco refinery.”

“Might I?” Corvo asked, amused. The boy nodded. “Alright.” Before turning to leave, he said, “I hope he paid you well, because I haven’t got any money.“

The boy grinned. “I know, mister. It was your coin he paid me with,” he said — and, with a laugh, scampered off down the road.

Of course. Corvo shook his head, wondering at himself for indulging _any_ of this. Well. He needed his things back. _Think of your sword_ , he told himself. So he set off towards the factory district. Most of the businesses producing Cullero’s exported goods — cigars and grapes, not the least interesting combination — were located further into the city, factories and refineries dotted along the Júcar river. The grapes were harvested and brought down from the vineyards leading up towards the cliffs, and what wasn’t used to make wine was sent down to be washed and sold, or shipped out.

Corvo had been wandering around the factory yards for about half an hour when he spotted a familiar figure, sitting on top of a shipping crate, about a hundred yards away. He had his back to him, so with any luck he wouldn’t see him coming.

Determined, Corvo marched over, barely stopping for workers pushing carts filled with fresh tobacco leaves. He rounded the crate, came to stop in front of it, and took in the picture that presented itself: Daud, smoking that same tar-infused cigarettes from the night before, and in his _lap_ , Corvo’s things.

“You asshole.”

“Found me, though, didn’t you.” Daud squinted a little against the sun high in the sky, and took another drag. “Come on,” he said, throwing Corvo’s things at him one-handed. “Get dressed.”

“Oh, which is it,” Corvo griped, annoyed enough to let his guard down, “take them off or put them on?”

Daud, the bastard, smirked. “All in good time, soldier.“

“Don’t start that again,” Corvo warned him before he gratefully (not that he’d show it) secured his belt and put his uniform jacket back on. “Besides, are you sure you want to be seen with a member of the Guard?”

Daud tilted his head. “You’re implying I shouldn’t be.”

“You’re tracking fences to bars, dragging guardsmen into doing your dirty work, and you wouldn’t tell me who you work for. I can only assume, therefore, that you work for yourself, and if that’s the case, perhaps _I_ should not be seen with _you_.”

Daud regarded him for a moment. “So’s that stopping you?”

Corvo put his hands on his hips. “I didn’t say that.“

Daud shrugged. “You know, seeing you in daylight… if you weren’t half as pretty, I’d have just gone in alone.”

Corvo shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Daud grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a) Daud's such a jerk smartass, and I'm HERE for it  
> b) next time on this channel: Corvo and Daud, noodling around in Cullero


	4. Sing, Oh, Sing For Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’re going for a stroll,” Daud replied with the most insufferable smug look about him. “To the docks.”
> 
> Corvo raised his hands in exasperation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaahhhhhh I love them so muchhhhh

Corvo waited until Daud had ground the butt of his cigarette into the dirt.

“So, where are we going?“

Daud stood and, with a fingertip at Corvo’s elbow, turned him around to face upriver.

“Have you passed on what you heard from Dawson yet?”

“No.” Corvo frowned. “You’re not suggesting we pay her a visit?”

“You’ll see.” Daud let go of him and started walking. He seemed in no particular hurry, so Corvo settled into moving along beside him as they wove through the throngs of factory workers going about their business.

“I suppose you have a plan,” Corvo remarked. “Or were you just going to take me for a stroll?”

“Before I answer that,” Daud said and stopped once more, making Corvo turn to look at him. “I have a question.”

“Which is?”

“What was it like, to win the Blade Verbena at _sixteen_?” Daud’s voice had dropped low, as if he wanted to keep this between them — as if anyone in one of the busiest factory yards in Cullero was interested in anything they had to say. “To be that scrawny kid that duped everyone with a stolen sword, and to be drafted as a soldier for your trouble?”

Corvo raised a brow. “I didn’t think anyone would care for my name.”

“Not many might remember the name Corvo Attano,” Daud returned, taking a step closer, “but they sure still talk about the most beautiful thing they’d ever seen.” At Corvo’s disbelieving look, he added, “I know someone at the Gazette.”

“Of course you do.”

“Wish that I could’ve seen it, though.”

“Why, where we you? Jail?” Corvo quipped.

“Travelling,” was all Daud said.

Corvo hummed. “Now you owe me an answer: where are we going?”

Now it was Daud’s turn to raise a brow. “I don’t believe you answered my question. Either of them.“

Corvo looked away. Looked back at Daud. “I wasn’t doing it for glory. But… it felt good.”

Daud smirked, but his grey eyes were warm with something more than condescension. “You forced your will on the world. That’s bound to tickle.”

“Is that what you do?” Corvo couldn’t help but ask, even knowing he was unlikely to receive a solid answer.

“Perhaps.” Daud’s expression turned serious and, just for a second, Corvo could have sworn his eyes flicked down to Corvo’s mouth; before he cleared his throat and took a step back. “Now, you deserve your answer.”

“And?”

“We’re going for a stroll,” Daud replied with the most insufferable smug look about him. “To the docks.”

Corvo raised his hands in exasperation.

* * *

 

They did indeed make their way down to the docks, but they did so by the most circuitous route. Through the merchant quarters, Daud took him towards the market. They passed the stalls laid out with produce and manufactured goods. Daud stopped at one, and Corvo watched as he parlayed the vendor into giving him five apples for the price of four. Still shaking his head, Corvo caught the one Daud tossed at him.

“I see at least you paid for this with your own coin,” he teased — or at least he hoped so. He hadn’t stopped to count what was left in his pouch.

Daud cut him a glance. “Kieron talked, did he.”

“Aye.”

“Of course he did.” Next Corvo knew, Daud had let out a sharp whistle. Out of seemingly nowhere, three children appeared in front of them, two boys and a girl — and Corvo recognised one of them.

“Hello, Kieron,” he greeted, more out of amusement than to get his own back; and the boy grinned at him toothily.

“Hello again, mister.”

“Here,” Daud said and threw them each an apple. “Don’t feed all of it to the rats.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Master Daud, sir,” the other boy, and Corvo reckoned the oldest of the trio, promised.

“Anything else that needs doing?” the girl asked.

“No, it’s alright,” Daud shook his head. “Now scram,” he dismissed them with a wave of his hand, and like mice scrambling underfoot, they were gone.

“You look out for them?” Corvo asked.

Daud took a generous bite out of the apple he had left, chewing as they walked on. “’s not how I’d put it,” he said eventually.

“How would you put it?”

“They get into the spaces I can’t.”

“And in return?” Corvo pressed.

Daud shrugged. “In return, I pay them, and they don’t get scooped up by the Grand Guard.”

“You have a deal with the Grand Guard?”

Daud scoffed. “Of course not.” The glare he sent Corvo now was sharper. “Guardsmen are lazy, they don’t like chasing after street kids who can run. They pick up the weak ones, or the ones openly hunting for scraps or stealing.”

Now, Corvo understood. “So you pay them, and they don’t have to steal.”

Daud nodded curtly.

“How many?” Corvo asked. “You don’t make enough to keep all of Cullero’s street urchins on your pay roll.”

The corner of Daud’s mouth lifted in what could be misconstrued as a smile. “It varies.”

Corvo clicked his tongue, polishing the apple Daud had tossed him on his jacket. “Daud, father of twelve.”

“Stop it,” Daud commanded, perhaps hoping that it might stick.

Corvo grinned. “Not a chance.”

They made their way further across the market, passing through unhindered. They had to make for an unlikely pair, Corvo thought, a guard and a… whatever Daud was. He seemed to know who everyone was, even if no-one seemed to know him — or at least pretended very well they didn’t. Having finished their apples and tossed the cores to the crows, they spoke little, but it was no uncomfortable silence that begged to be filled.

At length, Corvo did speak.

“My squad’s returning to Karnaca tomorrow. We leave before dawn.”

“Okay,” was all Daud said, throwing him a quick glance.

They left it at that.

* * *

 

Eventually, they did make it to the docks. Daud pointed out one of the ships further down the pier.

“That’s the _Cataleya_ ,” he told Corvo.

“Dawson’s boat.”

“Correct.”

Corvo turned, finding Daud right by his shoulder.

“And now?”

“And now, we pay the good captain a visit,” Daud answered without remorse.

Corvo gnashed his teeth.

*

When they arrived at the docks where the Cataleya had made port, however, Corvo was met with a surprise: officers and guardsmen, raiding the ship, and Dawson in the midst of it all, swearing at them, the Void, and ‘the bastard that had ratted her out.’ A safe enough distance away not to be noticed immediately, Corvo slowly turned to stare at Daud. He was about to ask what in the _Void_ he thought he’d done, when an officer shouted, “Escobar, get down from there, you nut!”

Startled, Corvo whipped around and found Rinaldo, climbing up the rafters into the crow’s nest.

“You tipped off _my squad_ ,” he said, hardly believing his eyes.

“I thought they might be happy to help out,” Daud replied with an expression as though butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

Corvo sought for words that appropriately expressed his indignation.

“You did this for your own ends, and you used me to do it,” he accused, turning towards Daud fully, jabbing a finger into his chest. “And you stole my clothes because you knew I’d chase after you, so I wouldn’t find out.”

“Hoped,” Daud returned, smug as anything, only riling Corvo further. “And besides, I led you here; just in time for you to see this.”

“Why?” Corvo demanded, crowding closer, even knowing that their difference in height would do nothing to intimidate Daud. And indeed, he smirked.

“I got a contract,” he said, “to be rid of her. Usually, that means blackmail, or a tip-off to a third rival. But today… I supposed you might appreciate this solution.”

“Appreciate,” Corvo barked — but before he could get any further, someone interrupted them.

“Attano!”

Shit.

“Not now,” Corvo quickly turned to tell Escobar to sod off, but of course the man wouldn’t budge.

“Who’s that fella you’ve got there?” He came closer, looking Daud up and down.

Corvo turned back to Daud, challenge in his eyes.

“Daud,” the man introduced himself, seeing as Corvo couldn’t be relied upon for etiquette. “I met your man Attano here last night.”

Corvo curled his right fist.

“Escobar,” Rinaldo nodded at Daud, then stopped short. “Hold on. Met last night—Corvo? Is that the gear bandit?“ He grinned even wider now. “Is this the bastard you went to chase down?“

“Leave it, Rin,” Corvo told him. To his surprise, Rinaldo laughed, but did turn back towards the ship.

“Get outta here,” he called. “I won’t tell Mendoza you were here.”

“But—”

“Come on, Corvo,” Daud tugged on his elbow again. “Take him up on that suggestion.”

Corvo glared at Daud. “And why would I do that?”

“Because then you don’t have to explain how you got here.”

“Fine.” Corvo shook off Daud’s touch, light as it was, and joined him in walking down the pier. “You’re still an asshole.”

“Oh, I know.”

* * *

 

And yet, they spent the rest of the afternoon together. Daud showed him the interesting parts of Cullero — meaning the highly unsavoury — as well as the rich; although he made Corvo climb rooftops once again to move around there.

“They don’t take too kindly to strangers not wearing the latest fashion,” Daud murmured, barbed sarcasm practically advertising his disdain for those for whom going out every day merely meant to see and be seen.

“They have their uses,” Corvo said with a shrug.

“For pickpockets,” Daud returned, then stopped. “Attano,” he gave a muted cry. “You, a little street rat?“

“You knew full well the sword was stolen,” Corvo sniped back.

“I didn’t know everything else was.” Daud turned to lean against the edge of the roof, crossing his arms and giving Corvo another once-over, as if seeing him in an entirely new light. “Moving up in the world, hm? In the Grand Guard?”

“It’s the only way,” Corvo said. “What? You grew up in the slums, same as me,” he hazarded a guess.

Daud grinned, but not like before, less amused and more… feral.

“Was a time even the slums were too rich for us,” he answered. “My mother and me,” he added at Corvo’s enquiring glance. Before Corvo could say anything, Daud buffed him in the chest with the back of his hand. “Come on.”

He was already walking away when Corvo called, “I have to be back on the ship soon.”

Daud’s step faltered for just a moment, but then he kept moving. “Keep up, then.”

Corvo rolled his eyes at his retreating back. Then, he followed.

“Where are we going?“

“Up.”

Rooftop by rooftop, they climbed higher, until they were far up enough that nearly all of Cullero westward of the river lay sprawled beneath them; short of actually climbing the cliffs.

“It’s beautiful,” Corvo commented idly.

“Is it?” Daud asked, if only to be contrary.

Corvo shot him a look. “You know it is, otherwise you wouldn’t have taken me here to show off.” He looked out towards the horizon. The sun was starting to set. “I need to get back,” he said quietly.

Daud hummed, but didn’t answer.

Corvo sighed, and pushed away from the low wall. Daud was standing next to him, leaning against the ledge by his hip. Corvo regarded him for a moment, a strange fluttering of nerves reminding him that he shouldn’t be here but that, inexplicably, he wanted to. That he’d enjoyed this. Reminded of the night before, he smiled.

“Wish me luck?” he asked, uncertain but willing to try.

Daud cut him another glance. Then, he stood up straight and moved close again. He had to look up at this short a distance, and Corvo wondered idly how much he hated it.

“You might need it, this time,” Daud murmured.

Corvo went to speak, but thought better of it. Instead, he leaned forward. A kiss goodbye seemed only right. Feeling Daud’s lips press against his own, he remembered something else. Tugging him closer by the lapel of his coat, he let himself be bold.

A _proper_ kiss goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd say spoilers but I think we all know that this is not goodbye :'')))


	5. Everlong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rinaldo laughed, “Aah, but you knew who I meant.” When Corvo wouldn’t dignify that with a reply, he nudged him with his elbow. “Come on. Making friends with the guy who stole your gear? Spending the day with him? Your last day in the city? You like him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just couldn't keep you lot dangling off that cliffhanger for too long <3

The journey back to Karnaca passed swiftly, the days filled with the froth and salt of the sea; and Corvo managed not to spend all of his thoughts on Cullero, or a certain man in blue. The evening before they were due back in the capital, Rinaldo joined him on deck.

“So… mooning over your man?”

Corvo sent him a baleful look. “He’s not ‘my man.’“

Rinaldo laughed, “Aah, but you knew who I meant.” When Corvo wouldn’t dignify that with a reply, he nudged him with his elbow. “Come on. Making friends with the guy who stole your gear? Spending the day with him? Your last day in the city? You _like_ him.”

“He was interesting, that’s all.”

At that, Rinaldo snorted. “Interesting? Is that all you’re giving me? Alright, Attano, I see how it is.” He bit his lip, still grinning. “You know, I gave him my best once-over, he didn’t even _blink_. Only had eyes for you.“

Corvo didn’t answer.

“There’s bound to be another assignment just like this in a few months. You could take it.”

“Stop it,” Corvo growled. Seeing as Rinaldo was unlikely to ever give up, he added, “And besides, he’s been travelling from one place to the other. Chances are he’ll move on soon.”

“Not if you can catch him. Take some leave, you’ve earned it.”

“Rin,” he pleaded. “There’s nothing to catch.”

“Well, not with that attitude,” Rinaldo grumbled as he rested his chin on his hand, slumping against the railing.

“Don’t sulk.” Corvo sighed. “I doubt we’ll ever speak again.”

“You’re an idiot, Attano,” Rinaldo declared. “As your friend, I have to tell you.”

“No-one’s forcing you to be my friend,” he reminded him.

“That’s where you’re wrong. I promised your mother,” Rinaldo returned without missing a beat.

Corvo had half a mind to throw him over board. But then who would he talk to?

* * *

 

Of course, Rinaldo got the rest of the squad in on his little scheme: over the next few weeks, they all badgered him to sign up for the next naval assignment with them, just as soon as the pirates had sorted themselves out and re-established their schedule of robbing trade vessels and whaling ships. Corvo was quite content not to if just to spite them, even as he felt the vestiges of temptation.

His mother, on the rare occasion that he could travel to old Batista to visit her, commented on ‘that far-away look’ in his eye; and if Corvo hadn’t known better, he’d have accused Escobar of getting to her, too.

The trouble was, it wasn’t Daud he was thinking of — not only. He’d been on ship assignments before, but this had been the first time one had taken him as far as Cullero. And he’d enjoyed it. The company, certainly, but the city as well. He did not feel any sense of guilt for thinking of the man, but he dreaded the same sense of adventure inside himself that had taken Beatrici away from them. It had been five years now, since her leaving, and they hadn’t had a word. Corvo suspected she would have gone to Morley first, rather than Gristol or Tyvia, but there were plenty of ways for fate to have befallen her in all that time. He could not imagine telling his mother that he had the same designs.

And yet, when his captain approached him about taking another run at the pirates that haunted the waters between Serkonos and the Eastern Isles, Corvo did not hesitate long before volunteering. They would leave three weeks from now.

* * *

 

Mere days before this new assignment, Corvo was out on patrol at night, down in Lower Aventa. It was a clement night, with nothing but the mosquitoes a thorn in Corvo’s side. He followed his feet towards the market, then down the boulevard towards the canal. He would have turned back, as his shift was ending soon, when he heard raised voices from a nearby building.

“There’s no way we can move this much merchandise within the week, Yaël! The Grand Guard are useless bastards, but they’re not that stupid!”

Corvo sighed. Did they never learn? Quietly, he looked for an open window, to be able to listen better and perhaps catch a glimpse of their faces. The voices did sound near enough to be on the ground floor, or a basement with grated windows leading out onto the street. Approaching a darkened alleyway, he was startled when a hand closed around his right wrist and pulled him further into the shadows. He immediately reached for his sword with his left, but that wrist too was caught; and when he tensed and struggled to break the hold, he was pushed, roughly, against the wall.

Unwilling to alarm civilians — or to spook the smugglers hiding out — Corvo kept his mouth shut but used his chance otherwise. He may not have leeway to get at one of his weapons, but neither did his attacker; so in anticipation of a knife to the throat or the ribs, he brought up a knee, and put it where it — hopefully — hurt.

His assailant let out a gratifying grunt, confirming at least one theory, and his hold on Corvo’s wrist weakened. Corvo used the opportunity to turn the tables, wrenched his arms free and, with one hand wrapped around the stranger’s throat, did him the courtesy of introducing his back to the brick behind them. He drew his pistol from its holster with the other, and laid the barrel against the man’s temple.

“Not a word,” he growled. “Who are you?”

In the half-dark, he could only see part of the man’s face: the right side, with a strong brow, dark hair, and—

Corvo inhaled sharply. A scar, running from brow to cheekbone, down to his chin. He sought the man’s eyes, and they were grey.

“Daud.” Daud strained in his hold, panting just a little, and belatedly Corvo realised the position they were in. Right away, he dropped both his hands, and took half a step back. “I—Daud?” Uncaring that he sounded like a broken record, Corvo holstered his pistol. “What are you doing here?“

Daud let himself slump against the wall a little, and Corvo fought not to look as he reached down to, presumably, adjust himself.

“Why’s it you always get in my way when I’m tracking someone, hm?” Daud drawled, his voice even raspier than Corvo remembered.

“I could ask you the same thing,“ Corvo hissed. “And that’s not what I meant. What are you doing in Karnaca?”

At this, Daud smirked.

“Took a contract, seeing as I was coming this way.”

Corvo stopped short. “You were?”

Daud raised his brow. “Don’t flatter yourself, Attano. There’s things needed doing.”

“Of course.” Corvo was going to say something else, when just above them, a window opened.

“Fuck’s sake, Hector, I heard voices. Check outside, will you.”

Daud and Corvo retreated further into the shadows, but there was no missing the heavy footsteps coming their way.

“Quick,” Corvo urged, reaching for Daud, but he shook his head.

“No time.”

Before Corvo could protest, he felt Daud crowding him back again.

“Besides. Turnabout’s fair play.”

Without waiting for Corvo to get what he was playing at, Daud covered as much of him with his own body as he could, shielding him from view — and kissed him. If Corvo had the mind for it, he might find some amusement in the fact that they only ever found time to do this when they were strictly speaking _out of time_. For the moment, however, his thoughts narrowed down to the feeling of Daud’s lips on his, and the traitorous notion that he’d _missed_ it.

“Ugh,” a voice scoffed from the mouth of the alley. Footsteps retreated, trudged back up the stairs into the house. A door clanged shut. “Just lovebirds, Yaël! Quit your panicking!”

Down in the alley, meanwhile, Daud slowly let up on Corvo, but didn’t move away.

“Sorry,” was all Corvo managed to say.

Daud hummed, and Corvo fancied he could feel it reverberate in his own chest. “Who says I wasn’t going to do that anyway.”

Corvo’s breath hitched in his throat; but he rallied, and tilted his head. “Are you really here on a contract?”

Daud nodded.

“It’s been six weeks,” Corvo said, à propos of nothing. He swallowed. “I took another naval assignment.”

“Oh?”

“Would have taken me to Cullero.”

Another smirk tugged at Daud’s mouth. “Is that so?”

Quietly, Corvo asked, “How long can you stay?”

Daud’s smirk turned to a smile. “I’ve left Cullero. Can go wherever I want, now.”

Corvo frowned. “What about Kieron, and the others?“

“They’re in good hands. Besides, they can take care of themselves. Question is,” Daud rumbled, pressing closer, “can you?”

Corvo pointedly looked down between them, little room though there was. “I think you’ll find I can.“

Daud hummed again. “Wanna prove that to me somewhere that isn’t… here?”, he finished eloquently.

“Smooth,” Corvo told him, barely holding in a laugh.

“You just scrambled my balls, Attano, cut me a break,“ Daud huffed.

Corvo grinned. “Come on. Shift’s over. And they’re stupid enough to still be here tomorrow,” he waved a hand at the window above them.

“Thought you’d never ask.” Without waiting for a reply, Daud grasped Corvo’s wrist again, and pulled him along. “Want a drink?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> had to raise the rating because of... stuff.... happening... soon............


	6. I See, I See It All With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They did indeed get a drink (or three), and Corvo felt something like embarrassment wash over him at how easy it felt to fall back into acerbic banter; the same way they’d been in Cullero. They’d barely spent a day in each other’s company, but they found no fault in it now as they ordered two more shots of Orbon Rum and Corvo tried to tease information out of Daud as regarded that ‘contract’ of his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> contains non-explicit, fade-to-black sexy times  
> (honestly the thing most deserving of the rating change here is some of the dodgiest flirting I’ve ever written — so, read *that* at your own peril)
> 
> Also, a special shoutout to [BID](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BID/pseuds/BID)! Happy birthday!!

They did indeed get a drink (or three), and Corvo felt something like embarrassment wash over him at how easy it felt to fall back into acerbic banter; the same way they’d been in Cullero. They’d barely spent a day in each other’s company, but they found no fault in it now as they ordered two more shots of Orbon Rum and Corvo tried to tease information out of Daud as regarded that ‘contract’ of his.

“So who’s it for? And why’s it always smugglers?” The liquor was loosening his tongue, the Serkonan lilt getting stronger, too; and Daud glared over his shoulder, at the — clearly Gristolian — patrons who shot them a dirty look.

“It’s smugglers because they’re careless and stupid and make for easy marks,” Daud lectured, but any gravitas he meant to project was severely undercut by the light flush the alcohol had brought even to his cheeks. Corvo had no doubt that the man could hold his booze, but it was good to know that even he had tells he could not escape. “And as for the source, you know I won’t tell you.”

“Why not?“ Anyone accusing Corvo of _pouting_ would receive a swift kick up the rear, make no mistake.

Daud scoffed at him. “Stop pouting.”

Corvo narrowed his eyes at him. Alright, perhaps not _everyone_.

“I’ll get it out of you,” he promised, shooting for menacing; but going by Daud’s expression, coming out closer to petulant. He huffed. “Until then, I’ll just assume you couldn’t stop thinking of my handsome face and followed me here.”

Daud raised a brow. “Anyone ever tell you you’re the smuggest shit?“

“Squad calls me ‘hot shit,’ actually,” Corvo returned, then frowned belatedly. “And _you’re_ one to talk.”

Daud shrugged. “Makes all the difference if you can afford it.”

“You’re an ass,” Corvo informed him.

“By all means,” Daud said, then downed his shot. “Don’t hold back.”

“Like it?” Corvo couldn’t hold in the words. Daud leered at him from the side.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

The answer, of course, was yes.

* * *

 

Corvo took a quick look around the room after they practically tumbled through the door.

“How did you find this place?”

They hadn’t held out much longer at the bar, and after paying their tab, Daud had tugged Corvo out of the pub and down the street. They hadn’t needed to negotiate where to go — nor, crucially, what they were looking to do. The walk to the attic Daud was squatting in had been short, but still Corvo had used more than one opportunity to manoeuvre Daud into a dark alleyway, to crowd him back and kiss him for what he was worth. Daud had chuckled against him the first time and moaned the third when Corvo had nudged a thigh between his.

“Patience, Attano,” he’d rasped.

“Not my strong suit,“ Corvo had returned without remorse. In answer, Daud had nudged him backwards.

“Best time to learn, then,” he’d threatened, and dragged Corvo further down the alley. Barely above whining, Corvo suspected he’d grinned like a loon. _Young and stupid_ , he’d thought. But then, he’d never much had the chance to in the past. And now, he’d followed Daud in scaling several smaller buildings while somewhat drunk and more than sufficiently distracted, into a dusty attic. In short, he was ready to make mistakes — only, somehow, he was certain this wasn’t one.

Back in front of him, Daud looked up at him.

“That’s the question you want to ask right about now?” he drawled.

“Why? Which would you prefer?” Corvo asked innocently.

“Which way up on the bed?” Daud challenged, his gloved hands tugging at the clasps of Corvo’s uniform. “How’s that sound?”

“Who’s the smug shit now,” Corvo quipped, but leaned closer and into Daud’s space. “Am I allowed to kiss you now?“

Daud hummed. “So polite.” But before Corvo could answer, Daud had already leaned up and left no doubt as to his answer. Groaning, Corvo let himself be greedy as he raised his hands to Daud’s waist and reeled him in, pressing closer.

Slowly, their clothes found their way to the floor — or at least Corvo’s did, as Daud had a way of batting his hands away whenever Corvo made to slide that handsome blue coat off his shoulders. Belatedly, Corvo realised why: perhaps the gloves needed to come off first.

“Come on,“ he panted, breaking their kiss, “off,” he demanded with a nod at Daud’s hands. If he didn’t know better, he’d say Daud hesitated a moment; but the impression was fleeting as Daud moved in to kiss him once again, making short work of the supple leather gloves all the while. Satisfied, Corvo bit and tugged on his lower lip, making Daud grunt.

Corvo wanted to pull away, to get a look at Daud’s hands, but then strong fingers wound into the strands of his hair and _tugged_ , and presently all thoughts fled Corvo’s mind. When he returned to himself, Daud seemed to be working on both their clothes at the same time. Corvo protested against his lips, pulling away.

“Can’t let you do all the work,” he said, and were this anyone else, he would’ve hated how breathless he sounded. But this was Daud, a no-good thief and shady character, who apparently had nothing better to do than his best to get into Corvo’s pants; and frankly, Corvo could work with that just fine.

“Corvo—“ Daud said, but it was already too late. Corvo had already looked down.

Everything stopped.

“What’s that?” Corvo asked — only, he could fucking _guess_ , couldn’t he? “Daud… is that..?”

Daud sighed. “Yes.”

“You’re a heretic.”

“Yes.”

“You… worship—”

“I don’t _worship_ anybody,“ Daud growled, and Corvo couldn’t help the tension in his gut coiling tighter at hearing it. “I look for the shrines, and sometimes—”

He cut himself off.

“Sometimes what?” Corvo prompted.

“Sometimes I bleed,” Daud added, quietly.

Hesitantly, Corvo raised his left hand to touch Daud’s cheek, close to the scar. “Is that how you got this?“

“That would be telling,” Daud smirked, but quickly sobered. “Can we talk about this later?” he asked, his voice low. He leaned close again, almost close enough to kiss. “Please?”

A shiver ran down Corvo’s back, and he wavered.

“You said please,” he settled on teasing. “Must be important.“

Daud licked his lips. “Having my wicked way with you right now? Yes, rather.”

Corvo felt temptation gnaw at him, but he couldn’t give in yet.

“So we’ll talk about it?”

Daud nodded, fingertips brushing over Corvo’s shirt and against his chest.

“Alright,” Corvo murmured, leaned closer — and then moved away again. Daud’s fingers curled into the fabric, tugging. “You said something about having your wicked way…?”

Daud growled again. “Tease.” This time, he drew Corvo in properly.

* * *

 

Later — much later — Corvo’s heart was still beating fast and unsteady when he fell back into the covers, Daud on top of him and equally out of breath.

“Fuck, Attano,” he sighed, and Corvo laughed, drunk on what they’d just done rather than the rum from earlier.

“I believe that was the idea,” he said, and Daud swatted at his chest.

“Stop that,” he chided, and Corvo laughed again. “What do they teach you in Guardsman school?”

“Certainly not this,” Corvo returned. “Certainly not… _that_ ,” he made some complicated gestures with that hand that wasn’t resting between Daud’s shoulder blades.

“Bashful, Corvo?” Daud raised his head, resting his chin on Corvo’s collarbone.

“Funny.” With his free hand, Corvo caught Daud’s left where it curled around his ribs. He threaded their fingers together and raised their linked hands up so he could see the back of Daud’s. “So it’s real?”

Daud sighed, but he sounded resigned rather than annoyed. “It’s real.”

“How long have you had it?“ Corvo asked.

“A year,” was all Daud said, but Corvo was just tired out enough to be patient. _Just_. Again, Daud sighed. “How much do you know about the Outsider?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAHHHH CLIFFHANGER EHEHEHEHE


	7. If I Asked You Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corvo Attano had _much_ to answer for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is what happens when I can't sleep past 4am — I finish a story. THANK YOU to everyone who's read along and done some yelling; I very much enjoyed writing these young and stupid boys.
> 
> Today, you're getting Daud's perspective on the whole thing — a little less playful, a little more introspective, but still a little shit. And super dumb about feelins.

Karnaca was just as Daud remembered, and yet so different. The last time he’d been here, he had just come in on a ship from Dunwall, returned from his first stint in the capital. Half he’d been abducted, half he’d run away. His mother had been long dead, but it had felt as though she’d died again the day he’d left; and his punishment was her face fading from his memories. He wondered if all children were punished so, or just the bastard ones.

From that first return to Karnaca, he’d gone anywhere and everywhere in the pursuit of the black-eyed god’s shrines — for a god he had to be, to give away such power so freely. Daud had listened to his mother be called a witch and had never believed it, but the first time he’d found a bonecharm, in the apartment of an old carver in Dunwall, he’d known that there had to be something in his blood that let him hear those whispers from the Void. The whispers had led him further, to a rune to a shrine to the Void itself that had followed him into his dreams. It had been months, months of telling himself he was not searching, merely wondering, before those dreams of the Void had not been empty anymore, torn pieces of Dunwall streets floating in the blue; months until the Outsider himself had revealed himself. Although perhaps that was the wrong word — Daud did not believe that anyone had ever seen him unobscured, or ever would. He’d read what he could about the Void, about its ageless god; works by heretics, those obsessed and those afraid, and writings by Overseers warning those who feared the Scriptures as much as the Void of its corrosive influence. Daud would never seek solace in the Abbey’s teachings, would not know where to look.

It had been a long and arduous mockery of a courtship. The first time, the Outsider had not even spoken, simply watched him; and eventually Daud had woken up from the dream, not certain it had not simply been a dream at all. But it had happened again, and again, and by then Daud had found his voice. He still remembered the first time he’d received an answer well.

_Only those who are interesting, young Daud. Those who have a role to play. And you… you have so many._

‘What does that mean?’ Daud had asked him then, had asked him every time after, until he had received the mark on his hand, searing with incandescent pain, still burning lightly every time he used it as if drawing a knife along a wound never allowing it to heal. His answer, had been this:

_It will be a delight watching you choose._

Daud did not believe in providence, or fate. He believed in making his own luck, even if he had to use the Void to do it. Magic, it was, in its purest form, or what the Abbey and the Academy would call the frayed edge of reality betraying science and playing tricks on the human eye. The Void was as material as the world itself: Daud could feel it when he broke time apart to transverse, or when he used his gaze to see through walls. What he saw wasn’t the guards themselves, it was their shadow selves in the Void, and he only could because the Void had no use for walls and locks.

His powers gave Daud an edge, and he intended to use it. The ones who’d taken him away, they’d taught him things. Stealing he’d already known, though he’d always strived to hide it from his mother for not wanting to break her heart in knowing that he knew how hard they lived. It had been the last innocence afforded them even when they lived in the slums and she’d broken her back to keep them with a roof over their heads. But the ones he’d run with, they’d done different things as well. Blackmail, for instance, finding secrets and using them to their own or, usually, someone else’s advantage — someone who would then reward them handsomely for their efforts. Even at seventeen, he’d sometimes thought that this was not far enough. Dunwall’s nobility was a serpent with a hundred heads, and gouging out one’s eye did nothing to slow its ravenous hunger, or its feasting on those who had no hope of escaping the life they’d been born into. What were to happen, then, if one started slicing off those heads and their sniffing tongues?

The Outsider had lured him out of Gristol before he could set himself the mission to find out; not that his employers would have approved. They were fixers, not assassins, so Daud had understood, and it was fine by him. As it was, he kept himself in clothes and money by doing what he’d learnt from them, and after two years of travelling across the Isles, never quite satisfied at having found all the secrets that they were, he had returned to Serkonos to make a start of it.

When he’d moved to Cullero, Karnaca feeling too crowded and corrupt, he’d not quite known what to expect. Work, certainly, contracts that would reacquaint him with the unsavoury parts of town as well as the rich… but not this.

Not this handsome, hot shot Grand Guard soldier, who was currently doing his best to wrap himself around Daud like half an octopus, nuzzling his neck and snuffling in his sleep. He was _snuffling_ , for Void’s sake, like a sleepy wolfhound. And Daud, Outsider help him (though he very well knew the black-eyed bastard would do nothing of the kind), felt a smile tug at his lips. This, perhaps, was judgement calling, the true punishment for his misdeeds, varied as they’d been. Doing his best not to, and yet falling for a guardsman, of all people; one with dark brown eyes and a cocky grin. Daud had not been surprised when Corvo had announced his impending return to Karnaca the second day they’d met — or first, rather, as their first acquaintance had indeed been made so much easier, and so much more tempting, under the cover of night. But what should have been their last kiss, for good luck, had been witnessed by the setting sun, who’d done what he could to remind Daud of it every evening since.

He’d _stolen his clothes_. Daud was a juvenile fool, but at least he knew it.

Half Daud had followed Corvo to Karnaca, half he’d been called to work, and perhaps it was par for the course that it was never just the one thing, with him. There was always another motive, even as he would admit to one but not the other; and even as he knew himself well enough that perhaps the draw of Corvo Attano would have been enough, eventually. Certainly, the draw of Corvo Attano naked in his bed was nothing to turn up his nose at. Not at all.

Besides, Corvo called him a _brat_. During _sex_ , Daud realised belatedly; at the time too caught up in the feeling of Corvo inside and around him to give a damn.

Corvo Attano had _much_ to answer for.

 

* * *

 

Daud didn’t expect it, but somehow Corvo managed to get out of his naval assignment — the one that would have taken him to Cullero, Daud did not tire of pointing out the next time they saw each other; earning himself a weak glare and a pointy knee against his thigh. Corvo betrayed little grace in acknowledging that, now that he had Daud — and _had_ him, too — there was little need to go to Cullero to chase him, pirates and their plunder be damned. Daud much preferred that way of thinking, not that he said so out loud; but he might be rightfully accused of whispering it into Corvo’s skin that night. They were young, and stupid, and Daud could live with that.

What he could very well live without, however, was the interference of a certain Void god in the middle of the night, when Daud should have gotten some rest, sorely needed after keeping Corvo up for most of it and doing his best to make good on a half-drunken promise to make him scream his name.

But here he was, in the Void, and spared a thought for hoping that he wouldn’t start mumbling in his sleep for Corvo to wake and hear. He’d worn him out well enough, but a bed companion who talked in their sleep was difficult to ignore, whether it be sharing bunk beds or the same pillow; even if Daud had only limited experience with the latter. He had told Corvo about the Void, about the Outsider — not everything, but enough to satisfy his curiosity, or so Daud hoped. He had yet to demonstrate his powers to him, was reluctant to do so. He had learnt to guard his secrets… better than he’d learnt to guard his heart, apparently.

Mercifully, Daud did not have to wait long before the scourge that haunted these parts appeared to him, looking smug.

 _So you found him again_.

“If that’s what you came to say, you’re late,” Daud informed him. He’d been back in Karnaca for two weeks, now. He’d found Corvo on his third night.

 _Had I known you were so easily tempted, I might have contrived to send you dark, handsome stranger much sooner_.

“I don’t think you can reasonably take credit for so much as rain on the horizon,” Daud returned, crossing his arms. “But suit yourself.”

_Do you believe in me so little? For all the power I have given you?_

“What I don’t believe is your interest in my happiness,“ Daud said before thinking twice, and then had to hold back a wince as he realised his mistake.

 _So he makes you happy, does he?_ The Outsider smirked as he needled him, predictably. _Well, he should. You followed him across a nation. How very… enterprising of you. I did not believe you shackled to such ordinary things as romance_.

Daud raised a brow. “Not _interesting_ enough for you?”

The Outsider tilted his head. _Worried I’ll turn my back?_

“You’re too bored for that,“ Daud answered with a scoff, even as the question stung. Just a little. At length, he raised a hand to wave it at their surroundings: the streets of Karnaca, sliced and diced and dotted around the sky that wasn’t. “Why did you bring me here?”

_I told you once it would be a delight to watch you choose. Which role to play, of the many open to you. One such choice will come soon, Daud. Be sure of it when you make it. It could change everything._

“Change what?” Daud asked impatiently.

 _The world_.

 

* * *

 

So weeks passed, then months, with Daud trying not to pay too much heed to the Outsider ringing his sinister bell. Whatever was coming, would, and there was little sense in waiting.

One night just at the end of Nets, Daud once again found himself in Corvo’s embrace, covered by a sheet to ward off the chill brought on not by the weather but by the sweat cooling on their skin, and was tempted to quip that _that_ had been anything but ‘ordinary,’ much as Corvo would not understand the reason for his amusement. But he kept the words to himself, burrowing into Corvo’s chest instead. Corvo’s fingertips were trailing along his shoulder blades, and Daud would have been content to slip down under into sleep, were it not for Corvo’s next words.

“I’m to be sent to Dunwall.”

At first, Daud said nothing. Then, he drew back, just enough to be able to see Corvo’s face in the dim light cast by the lantern in the corner.

“Dunwall? On whose orders?”

“The Duke’s. I’m to be made part of the Emperor’s guard.”

“You’re to be made a _gift_ ,” Daud growled, doing his best to regret his tone when Corvo averted his eyes. He tightened the hold of his arm around Corvo’s waist. “Corvo,” he rumbled, drawing his gaze back to him. “You don’t _have_ to go.”

“It’s the Duke. He pulled me up from nothing.” Corvo’s expression wavered, as if undecided between hurt and stubbornness.

“And Dunwall will do its best to grind you back into the dirt,” Daud told him. Dunwall was fertile ground for conspiracies and murder, but certainly not human decency. Seeing the corners of Corvo’s mouth go down, he leaned in to kiss him, softly, careful not to presume too much. They’d been reckless about every bit of this — ‘young and stupid,’ Corvo had murmured into Daud’s kiss one night, and it was true — and perhaps now was the time to have a care where they stepped next.

“So you won’t follow me, this time?” Corvo asked, his eyes filled with uncertainty.

Daud’s lungs felt filled with Void until he remembered to breathe. He cast about for words for a moment, until he said, “You gonna make me chase you?”

Corvo, in lieu of a reply, kissed him.

Right answer, then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a) AAAAHHHHHH WHALE SATAN  
> b) I _might_ write a sequel to this?? Maybe??  
>  c) Daud: eternally pissed at Theodanis for giving Corvo away like a box of chocolates. You can take the boy out of the AU, but you can't take the salt out of the boy.  
> d) Corvo: just wants his boyfriend to come with him.  
> e) me: I'd like to sleep, but I guess the fuck not. And now I have to go to work.


End file.
